Need You Now
by Quiet REBel girl -with VoDKa
Summary: Alex seems to be sinking rapidly into a downward spiral. But how can Mike stop it if he doesn't even know what's wrong? SLASH


**Name:** Need You Now (G.I.N.A.S.F.S.)

**Pairing:** Alex Riley/ Mike Mizanin (The Miz)

**Rating:** M

**Summary:** Alex seems to be sinking rapidly into a downward spiral. But how can Mike stop it if he doesn't even know what's wrong?

**Author's Note:** I'd been wanting to write a story with this kind of basic concept for a while, but I didn't have the proper inspiration for it. Then, I found A-Ry's mugshot from his DUI and suddenly, I had my idea. I'm not gonna say that this is for sure what he was on, because I have no clue. I'll also go ahead and say now that this story does deal with Xanax abuse. While I have no problems with anyone taking Xanax with a perscription, the situation/viewpoints I'm coming from in this (and real life) are from the people who abuse the drug, who buy it off the street and take them in pairs and handfulls. The people who will say things to you your own worst enemy wouldn't say. The people who would fuck you over without a second glance because they don't realize they're doing it because they're too fucked up. I'm not saying in any way that Alex Riley is like this. All I'm saying is don't take offense if you take Xanax because you actually need it. Enough of my ramblings! Hope you enjoy. =)

**Disclaimer:** I don't own shit. This is all fiction.

**Warnings:** Pill abuse.

Mike's phone vibrates itself completely off the bedside table before he finally wakes up enough to answer it. When he does, all he can manage to grumble out is what he hopes is a greeting. He's really not too sure.

"Hey. Mike. _MIKE._ Wake up." a voice says on the other end.

Mike slurs out some kind of response. He hears a scoff he can finally identify. But why the fuck is _Maryse_ calling him at some kind of ungodly hour he can't readily name?

"Michael! Wake up! Alex is in jail, and Ted and I are _not_ getting out of bed to go bail him out." she snaps, her accent thick with anger.

The only words that have managed to filter through are "Alex" and "Jail", and Mike is out of bed and sliding on jeans from _the night before_, holy shit, pulling on a shirt he thinks might be Alex's, (and why was that even _here_?), stumbling around looking for shoes.

"Why the hell is he in jail?" Mike asks worriedly, finally managing to locate a pair of flip flops (thank God he's in South Florida).

"I don't even know, something about drinking?" the blonde sighs in exhasperation. "What I want to know is why in the _hell_ he thought it was a good idea to call _me_ when this is so totally _your_ department?"

"I'm not sure." Mike says, a sour expression on his face even as he grabs his keys off the table by the door and heads to his car. "But I do intend to find out. Tampa City Police Station?"

"Yea, that one. Good night, Mike. Tell your boy not to call again for this shit. I don't have time for it." she snaps.

"He's not my-" Mike tries, but she's already hung up.

_Alex, what in the hell are you thinking?_ he thinks with frustration as he backs out of the driveway and heads to fetch his friend.

**III**

Alex looks relieved to be free until he looks up and sees that it's Mike there to pick him up. Mike watches the younger's face fall as he hangs his head, and it makes the pro feel strange. He tries to shake it off, turning back to the paperwork in front of him and signing it as quickly as possible. Alex is still avoiding his eyes when he finishes up, handing the younger his things. Alex seems even more upset when Mike leads the younger to his truck instead of Alex's own, but he sighs and gets in the passenger seat anyway. They've been driving for about ten minutes when Mike finally speaks up.

"Drinking and pills, Alex? Really?" he says, almost shocked he's even said it out loud. Once it's out, however, he continues on. "And driving? What were you thinking? _Were_ you thinking?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Alex responds quietly, and for the first time, Mike realizes it sounds like he's been crying.

He chances a look at the younger, and sure enough, his eyes are bloodshot, his cheeks puffy and swollen in a way that doesn't look like it's from the alcohol. Unfortunately, Mike has to turn back to the road before too long. He almost sighs. He can't make Alex talk about any of this if he really doesn't want to. But really, what could have possibly possessed his friend to take a handfull of pills and a fifth of whiskey and go careening down the streets of Tampa at two in the morning?

The rest of the ride is silent, and when they pull up outside Mike's house, Alex looks even more upset, if that's even possible. Mike just lets him know that they'll go get his car out of impound the next day, after they've had time to sleep. _And talk_, Mike adds to himself, but he refuses to tell Alex that out loud. When they enter the house, Alex immediately wanders off to the guest room. Mike does sigh now, heading into the den. He collapses onto the couch, letting out a deep breath as he settles. He turns on the TV, but it's mostly just for background noise, because he doesn't even remotely register what's playing. There could be porn on and Mike doubts he'd notice. He's so incredibly worried about his friend, but he has no idea how to say it. He's always been completely terrible at voicing his emotions, especially for people he cares about, and he cares about this kid an absolutely retarded amount.

Mike has recently come to the startling discovery that he likes Alex as _way_ more than a friend, or protege, or any of that. It had taken him a while to come to terms with it, and once he had, he'd had a mild panic attack over it (not that he will admit that to anyone, ever. The Miz does _not_ have panic attacks.), but now, he's alright with it. Not that he's actually been able to _tell_ Alex or anything. What the fuck would he even say? "Oh, hi there, obnoxiously straight friend of mine who is comfortable enough in his sexuality to flirt with me on live, national television. Just wanted to let you know that sometimes I think about you naked, all spread out on my bed, with me worshipping every inch of your skin. But sometimes I just think about us holding hands, all curled up on the couch watching some football game. Just thought I should tell you." Right. That'd go over _great_. Not that he'd really remember it after Alex _knocked him the fuck out._

And now Alex is drinking and taking God knows what kind of pills and _driving_? It's so not like him. Mike tilts his head back and sighs. He worries he's been so wrapped up in his own idiotic feelings that he's somehow managed to miss something majorly wrong with his friend. He feels like he needs a drink, but under the circumstances, he knows that would be completely inappropriate. Instead, he clicks off the TV, rising with the decision that maybe he should just try and go back to sleep. He toes off his shoes and stretches high above his head, lifting onto his tiptoes. He turns and, dimming the lights, heads down the hall towards his bedroom. When he passes the guest room, however, he hears a noise he's not accustomed to. It sounds like light, quick, hitched breathing, mingling with the occasional sniff. His stomach hits his feet, and he pushes open the door lightly.

What he sees makes his chest ache in a way he's not used to, a way he hasn't felt in a long time. Alex is half curled up on the bed, shaking. His breaths are uneven, and in the dim light from the hall, Mike can see the wet sheen on his face. He can't even stop himself; he strides in with a purpose, shutting the door behind him. He watches Alex flinch in the glow of the moon from the curtains when the door clicks shut. Mike doesn't say a word, just slides onto the bed carefully behind Alex. When the younger doesn't move, just keeps crying softly, Mike scoots in closer, finally coming to rest with his chest pressed up against Alex's back. Slowly, timidly, Mike brings an arm to rest around Alex, pulling him ever closer. He feels the younger curl in more on himself, still shaking, and he can almost feel the boy's pain. He's unsure why he does it, but Mike wiggles his way up a little higher on the pillow and leans in, taking in Alex's scent for a moment before tilting his head down and pressing a single soft, tender kiss to the younger's neck. He thinks for a moment that he feels Alex cry harder. Suddenly, however, there are cold fingers twining with his own and he relaxes a bit, just hugging his friend. He's not sure how long they end up lying like that, curled up together on the guest bed, but eventually, Mike nods off into a fitful sleep.

**III**

When Mike wakes, he panics momentarily because Alex is no longer next to him. He sits straight up, and almost immediately lets out a breath of relief when he sees the younger perched on the foot of the bed. His phone's in his hand, and he's still trembling, pale-faced. The champion moves to sit next to Riley at the foor of the bed, but the younger doesn't acknowledge him.

"Yes, sir." he finally says. "I understand, sir. No, of course it won't happen again. I sincerely apologize. No, I understand completely, sir. Alright. Goodbye."

Alex hangs up the phone and lets it drop to the floor. Mike scrambles forward and picks it up, setting it back on the bed next to the younger. He stares over at his friend. Alex won't meet his gaze, no matter what. Mike clears his throat.

"Who was that?" he questions quietly.

It takes Alex a moment, but he finally mumbles, "Vince."

Now it's Mike's turn to be nervous.

"Shit, man. What'd he say?" Mike rushes out.

He thinks he hears Alex whimper before the boy leans forward, resting his head in his hands. He takes a deep, shaky breath, and lets it out slowly before sitting back up straight.

"He said he'll have to think about how they're going to handle this. Whether I'm going to be let go or not." Riley sighs out.

Mike feels like someone just punched him in the gut. Alex? Gone? No way. _No way_.

"What?" Mike snaps. "No, fuck that, I'm calling Vince right now."

"I don't see what good it'll do." Alex mumbles, but Mike's already pulling his phone out of the pocket he'd fallen asleep with it in.

Vince is on speed dial, so all Mike has to do is type a single number and hit talk before his boss's phone begins ringing. McMahon answers so quickly, Mike thinks he must have been expecting the call.

"No, Mike. I'm not talking to you about this." he says first thing.

"Talking to me about what?" Mike inquires, giving the dumb card his best shot.

"I'm not stupid. You're calling about Alex, and I'm not talking to you about this." Vince responds sternly. Well, evidentially THAT plan wasn't going to work...

"But Vince, come _on_." Mike practically whines.

"Mike, I already told him I'd have to think about how we're going to handle this, and that's what I plan to do. I'll give you both my answer in a few days." Vince says in a tone that says he won't be swayed. That doesn't mean Mike won't try, though.

"Vince, it's one fuckup. He's only human! What, everyone else is allowed to fuck up every once in a while, and he's not?" Mike grumbles petulantly.

"Michael, we are not discussing this right now, and that's final. I'll talk to you both in a few days." Vince nearly snaps. It books no room for argument. Mike just sighs and bids his boss farewell. He hunches forward and pouts.

"I told you it wouldn't work." Alex speaks up from behind him. It makes him jump, turning toward the younger. "Can we, uhm. Can we go get my car?"

Alex is standing, staring at the ground. He glances up at Mike every few seconds, but tries not to meet the older's eyes. He's got his shoes on again, and he's fidgeting nervously, awkwardly. Alex Riley has never been awkward. Something is _wrong_. It hardens Mike's resolve to have this conversation.

"That depends." he begins, settling in and turning his whole body to fully face Alex. "You ready to tell me why you were driving it around at two in the morning pilled out of your mind with a fifth of whiskey in you?"

Alex shoots him a confused look. "How did you know it was whiskey?"

"I could smell it on your breath." Mike fires back with a slight glare. He leaves out the _when you were crying_.

The younger looks away again.

"Not really." he finally answers.

"Well then, it sounds like you're gonna have a tough time getting your car." the champion says, crossing his arms over his chest. He won't budge on this. He can't. Alex means too much to him.

He watches the younger glare at him for a moment.

"That's not fair, Mike!" Alex snaps, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh yea? Well neither is you getting fucked up and _trying to drive_. Are you completely fucking stupid? You could have been killed!" Mike returns, raising his voice as he rises to his feet.

"You think I don't know that? I already had to hear this shit from every stupid cop down at the police station! I don't need to hear it from you too!" the younger outright yells.

Mike can't even stop himself. It's in his nature to always be louder, and he screams back, "Yknow what, maybe you do! Maybe I need to be the one to tell you, because those assholes don't fucking care about you, and I..." He cuts himself off, all the emotions running through his head combining into one huge _feeling_ that's just overwhelming him. He breaks off in a half sob, closing his eyes tightly. He turns away from Alex slightly to regain his composure before speaking again. "And I _do_, so much, and the fact that you would even do something like this scares me, Alex. It scares me a lot, because it's not, it's not _like_ you. It worries me. Evidentially, something's wrong, Alex, and you won't tell me what it is. You'd rather take pills, and get drunk, and get in your fucking car, and _drive somewhere_, instead of picking up the phone and calling your _best friend_. And that...that worries me a lot."

Alex won't meet his eyes. He'd be lying if he said it doesn't hurt. He draws in a slow, deep breath, turning away to wipe his eyes so he can at least pretend Alex doesn't notice. He sighs softly.

"Let's go get your fucking car." he says, leaving the room.

The whole ride to the Police Department is silent, and it stays that way as Alex pays his fine and fills out his paperwork. The younger opens his mouth for the first time as Mike walks him to his car.

"Thanks for coming to get me, and letting me stay with you. I'll pay you back for bailing me out." he mumbles, barely looking at the older.

"Don't worry about that. I don't care about the money, Alex. I care about you." Mike tries again, borderline desperate by this point. "Come on. Please, I just want to talk to you, Alex. Come back to my house with me. Tell me what's _wrong_ with you."

"Nothing's _wrong_ with me, Mike." Alex bites out, climbing in his truck. "I'll see you later on."

He slams the door and starts the car. Mike moves out of the way as his friend drives off. He wants to hit something. He feels like Alex is slipping away, and there's nothing he can do about it.

**III**

The next morning, it's like nothing's happened. Alex shows up to practice with a wide smile, pulls Mike into a hug. Mike's so confused he can't even hug the other back.

"Hey, man. I really am sorry for how I've been acting. I've just been kinda stressed lately. Seems like we haven't had any downtime, right? I guess I just kinda snapped." Alex says, still smiling. There's something off about it. "I'm sorry, though. I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

Mike's staring hard at Alex's features, trying his damndest to figure out what it is that...that just seems..._off_. He can't figure out what it is.

"That's fine, man. We've all been there. Let me know when you're getting tired or whatever and we'll have more time off, okay?" Mike says evenly. Alex wants to act; he can act too. Mike almost bets he can act _better_.

Still, Alex extends his hand, and Mike takes it, pulling the other back into a one armed hug. He'll let Alex slide for now, but he swears there actually is something troubling the younger. He just has to figure out what.

**III**

But, a couple of days go by, and it seems like everything really is back to normal. Vince had been forced to at least let Alex appear on the upcoming Raw since everything had already been scheduled and planned and rehearsed, so they put everything into it, like it was Alex's last Raw, just in case it was. They have a blast, and hang out afterward, and talk and laugh like literally _nothing had happened_. Mike doesn't know whether to be mad or hurt or worried, so he's settled on some awkward mix of the three, and it makes his stomach hurt. Either way, he's excited to at least have his friend back. It takes the weight off that he's been carrying on his shoulders since Alex had driven away at the impound lot.

And then, Vince calls. Alex is a nervous wreck, so Mike insists on coming with him. That way, at least, Alex will have someone there for him if this is really it, and the hammer really does fall. They're both fidgety as they sit before Vince. Mike is nervous in a way he hasn't been in Vince's office in a long time.

"Alex. Err, Kevin." Vince starts, amending himself to use Alex's given name.

"It's Alex." the younger corrects, and Mike stares in shock at his friend.

"Alright. Alex." Vince begins again. "I've had quite a bit of time to think long and hard about this decision. This is a very serious thing you've done, and since you are a representative of the WWE universe, we do have to do something about this. You broke a number of rules, as well as laws, with your actions, and that can't be tolerated."

Alex's face has completely fallen, as if it had been possible. He looks like he could cry at any minute. Mike aches to pull his friend close and just hold him again.

"Now, I'm truly sorry, Alex, because we enjoy having you here. But your actions have forced my hand, and-"

Mike's mouth is open before the thought has even fully formulated in his brain.

"If you fire him, I'm leaving."

The room goes so quiet Mike swears he can hear the paint peel. He can't believe he just did that, can't believe he's putting everything on the line like this over _Alex Riley_, but he's said it and he can't take it back now. The more it echoes in his head, the less he wants to anyway. Vince stares at him incredulously.

"Excuse me?" he asks, disbelief painted across his features.

"You heard me." Mike responds, suddenly cocksure. "If you fire Alex over this, I'm gone."

"You can't be serious." Vince says, shocked. "You would throw away everything for him?"

"I'm dead serious, Vince. He's my best friend. I don't want to be here without him." Mike explains. He can see Alex's absolutely stunned expression out of the corner of his eye. That makes him a thousand times more nervous than Vince does.

"Michael, you're the WWE champion!" Vince tries, almost panicking.

"And I'm sure TNA would love to have me. AND him." Mike fires back. It's a low blow, but he wants to see if Vince will call his bluff. He's suddenly The Miz, and he can't be stopped. "But really, it is ultimately your decision. It is your company after all."

**XXXXX**

"But really, it is ultimately your decision. It is your company after all."

Alex watches Mike in absolute astonishment. What in the HELL is he doing? Now the younger really feels like an asshole. He's going to be reason Mike quits, too. Then he doesn't know WHAT he'll do. It makes him wish for a split second that he _had_ wrecked the truck. At least then he wouldn't be here to get fired, or get Mike fired, or _hurt_ his friend the way he has been. He shakes the thought from his head, however, and turns back to Vince. He holds his breath. Vince looks between the two of them with a mix of shock and authority. Finally, he lets out a sigh.

"Alright, Alex, you're off the hook this time." he almost mumbles, defeat written all over his face.

The younger nearly falls out of his chair.

"A-are you serious?" he stammers, the words tangling on his tongue.

"Well, I really don't have too much of a choice here, since your friend is serious." Vince says, glancing back at Mike. The champ is still staring him down fiercely. "But I meant what I said the other day. Don't let it happen again. Do you understand?"

Alex nods, still too surprised to really respond. He's excited, but completely confused. He's not entirely sure how to process what just happened. Vince bids them farewell, and the second they're in the hallway, Mike has him enveloped in a bear hug. He can't help but respond, hugging the older just as tight and grinning widely.

"Than you, Mike. Fuck, thank you so much." he says, shaking.

"I had to. I had to! I just, I couldn't let him just _take_ you from me like that!" Mike rushes out like he's not sure what to say.

Alex stops and takes a step back.

"I, I care about you too much for that." the champ continues, much quieter.

There's a moment where neither of them speaks or moves. The younger finally groans and pushes Mike away from him, just hard enough to make him stumble.

"Stop fucking saying that! Just, stop saying it when you don't mean it!" Alex snaps.

He watches Mike's eyes widen in shock, and the older opens his mouth to say something. Whatever it is, Alex doesn't want to hear it. It'll probably only hurt more. Instead, he turns and leaves, just like he always does.

**III**

Alex pops the blue pill into his mouth and chases it with another pull off his bottle. He makes a noise and a face as the liquid burns his throat. He leans back against the back of the couch, capping the bottle and setting it on his lap.

What the hell is his problem? Why does he have to read into everything that Mike does? Why does every single thing the older says have to mean so much to him? And to top it all off, he can't even save his own ass. Mike's got to do that one for him, too.

"What a piece of fucking work you are, Riley." he says aloud to the empty room.

He catches his reflection in the oversized television in front of him and scoffs. What a wreck. He's not sure why Mike is even wasting his fucking time trying to save him now. Vince will find a way to write him out later anyway. He takes another pull off the bottle, this one larger, and lets out a sigh. He wills the Xanax to kick in. He's a little tired of feeling worthless.

**XXXXX**

Even as he walks into practice the next day, Mike is still confused. He can't imagine why the younger would think he was lying about caring about him. He's always tried to show Alex how much he means to him; he can't figure out where he went wrong. As he enters the training area, he offers John Morrison and Alex a sheepish smile, knowing he's late. He can't exactly tell them that he was up all night tossing and turning, trying to figure out what he could do to help his friend. He _knows_ there's something terribly wrong, but how is he supposed to fix it if Alex keeps avoiding the situation entirely?

Today, however, Alex is quiet, almost unresponsive, even. He's like a robot, but he's a menace in the ring. He's nailing everything just right, though, so no one's complaining. That is, no one but Alex. He's had something shitty to say every time Mike or John have messed up a move even in the slightest way, and Mike can tell it's starting to really get under John's skin. Mike huffs out a sigh and hops back in the ring. He and John practice their own moves for a moment while Alex grabs a drink of water. The two stare each other down for a moment, then each lunges in for the lock.

"What the hell is Alex's problem?" John asks, right in Mike's face.

"I don't know." Mike responds quickly. He backs John up to the turnbuckle and chokes him. "He won't even tell me."

They break and John shoves Mike back, rushing in and delivering a few swift hits before jumping back. They circle again, and then lock.

"Well, he needs to get over it. I'm not listening to him be a princess all day. It's getting annoying." John says angrily.

He pushes Mike back, hard, and says "You shouldn't put up with it either." before delivering a crazy spin kick that knocks Mike onto his ass. He's sitting up and shaking his head when Alex steps back in.

"Are you guys ready to quit messing around and really practice yet?" the younger inquires, exhasperation in his voice.

John rolls his eyes.

"Whenever you are, kid." he says cockily, walking to the other side of the ring.

Mike shoots him a look, but John is already too far away to catch it. He turns to find Alex staring at him intently, his face soft for the first time all day. Mike returns the stare, a puzzled expression on his own face. Alex's eyes narrow slightly as he seems to snap out of whatever trance he was in, and he hops in the ring. Mike bites back another sigh. As he watches Alex and John fight, he gets back up in his own headspace, pondering his young friend. He's so distracted, in fact, that he forgets to cause the distraction he's supposed to, and John, not anticipating the missed fall, accidentally trips Alex, sending the younger sprawling onto the mat on his face. It snaps Mike out of his thoughts, his eyes widening.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry, man. Mike missed his mark." John says, offering his hand to Alex to help him stand.

Alex slaps it away and growls, pushing himself up to his feet. He storms over to the ropes and climbs over them, dropping down to land in front of Mike.

"What the hell was that, huh? Is that the kind of crap you're gonna do when it's live?" Alex snaps, descending on Mike and crowding into his space.

The champ backs up a bit, but Alex follows.

"Jesus Christ, Alex. Chill out. It's one time. I'm sorry." Mike apologizes, a confused expression on his face.

"Well, don't let it happen again." the younger growls, getting so close to Mike they're almost breathing the same air.

"Alright, man. Get out of my face." the champion says almost angrily, shoving Alex away from him.

Riley only stumbles back a few feet, not even really losing his balance. Mike had only pushed him hard enough to get the younger off of him. Nevertheless, the look Alex gets on his face makes Mike's breath catch. It's so intensely angry. Mike's seen his friend look at other people like this before, but never has he had the look turned on him.

"Don't fucking shove me." Alex hisses.

Before Mike knows what's even really going on, Alex swings, catching him clean in the side of the face. He immediately falls, landing against the ring. He clutches his at his jaw, cradling it softly. John's by his side in an instant, absolutely furious.

"Hey, what is your fucking problem?" John yells at the younger.

Mike doesn't even register that John's spoken.

"Did you just hit me?" he questions quietly.

Alex just stares on in shock, like he's just realized what he's done. Like he's just woken up into a nightmare. Mike feels his own expression fall even more, then harden. He would know that look anywhere. He about faces and heads towards the locker room, determination in his step. The little _asshole_.

When Mike breaks through the doors that lead out to the hall to the locker room, he breaks into a run. He knows Alex may be a little slow on the uptake right now, but he's not THAT slow, and either way, he's faster on foot than Mike by far. He rushes down the hall, and right as he hears hurried footsteps begin to catch up, he slams into the locker room door. There's a lock on Riley's locker, but Mike, as his best friend, knows the combination and he enters it in quickly. The lock has just snapped open when Alex gets to him, eyes wide.

"Mike, please, no-" the younger tries, but it's too late.

The bottle falls out of the locker when Mike swings open the door, crashing to the floor with a clatter. Alex almost reaches for it, but Mike shoots him a glare, bending down himself. The perscription label has been torn off (how fucking typical), so the older has to open the bottle to see what's inside. The sight of the blue pills confirms what he already knows. He stands back upright, snapping the cap back on the bottle and shooting Alex a vicious glare.

"Xanax, you asshole? Are you fucking kidding me right now?" Mike asks quietly, deadly serious.

Alex lowers his gaze.

"You _hit me_. You're barred out, and you _hit me_. Do you understand that?" the champion almost demands of the younger.

Riley opens his mouth like he's going to apologize, but Mike cuts him off.

"Take your fucking pills." He throws the pills at the younger, hitting him square in the chest. Alex flinches when they hit.

By the time they clatter to the ground, the bottle popping open and the pills scattering everywhere, Mike's already turned and begun walking the other way. He storms over to his things and changes as quickly as he can. He can feel tears forming behind his eyes, but he refuses to break down here. Not now, not in front of John _and_ Alex. In less than two minutes, he's changed and he has his things, making his way out the door. He can feel his face swelling, and it makes the tears build faster.

"Mike, wait, I-" Alex tries again as he passes.

"Fuck off." he tosses over his shoulder.

When he gets outside, he hops into his car and just drives. So many thoughts are rushing through his head he can't think straight. He's still fighting the tears even as he weaves through traffic. Eventually, it's too much. He whips into a McDonalds parking lot, parking back by the dumpsters and turning off his truck. He can't hold it back anymore, and he slumps forward, resting his head on the steering wheel as a sob breaks forth. He's never been so glad for tinted windows in all his life. He can't _handle_ this. Alex is killing himself, and he's dragging Mike down with him. Why in the _world_ would Alex turn to Xanax of all things? Where is he even getting it? Mike tries his damndest to clear himself up quickly, but it's hard. He really really wants to help the younger, this man he cares so _goddamned_ much for. But how is he supposed to do that when he doesn't even know what's wrong?

**XXXXX**

The door slams shut behind Mike's retreating form, and Alex can feel himself slump forward, his face falling. He _really_ fucked up this time. He has no idea how he's going to fix it. Yesterday, the guy is throwing his whole life's work on the line for Alex, today, Alex gets fucked up at practice and hits him in the face. He's so screwed.

"Are you actually retarded?" John's voice cuts through his thoughts. "Like, are you really mentally handicapped?"

Alex closes his eyes against the words, turning around to face John even as he speaks. "Look, I really don't want to talk about this right now."

He suddenly finds himself slammed up against a locker, feet off the ground, John holding him in place. The older man's face is right in his.

"No? Well, that's too bad." John says, smirking dangerously at him.

Alex gulps. This was not what he expected to happen AT ALL.

"You just hit a very good friend of mine, because you were fucked up on pills. What I want to know is why." John continues, narrowing his eyes at Alex.

The younger lets out a slow breath.

"You wouldn't understand." he says, looking away.

John drops him and takes a single step back, still keeping Alex trapped.

"Oh wouldn't I?" the older asks. "Try me."

"Why should I? You're not taking my side in this no matter what I say." Alex responds, sounding almost like a child.

"You don't know that." John defends himself.

"Yea, and you don't know me, so stop trying to act like you want to." the younger snaps, glaring back at John. He has no idea why he's being so rude all of a sudden.

"Whoa, where did _that_ come from?" the older questions, his expression turning to one of sheer confusion. "Do you even hear yourself right now? You're on the defensive about everything. You're being an asshole to everyone for no good reason. You _hit Mike_. What are you doing?"

"Yknow what, it's none of your fucking business, Morrison. It's between me and Mike. So why don't you fuck off?" Alex practically growls.

Instantly, he finds himself slammed against the lockers again, this time harder. He winces and barely keeps from crying out.

"Because, you little bastard, Mike is one of my _best friends_. And right now, you're treating him like shit, and that's not right. I don't know what your fucking problem is, but you need to get over it." John tells him quietly, angrily. "What could possibly be making you want to take Xanax and act like a complete fucking tool?"

"Stop pretending to give a shit, Morrison. You don't, Vince doesn't, _no one does._" Alex grinds out through gritted teeth. "I know I'm not worth a fuck, so why don't you all stop acting like you care and stop getting my hopes up, because I'm sick of being let down."

Morrison drops him so fast, he can't even think to land on his feet. Instead, he hits the ground, his back still against the lockers.

"You really are an idiot." John says in complete and utter disbelief. "Do you really think that?"

Alex doesn't feel like he should dignify John with an answer, so he remains staring at the floor. He hears John bark out a watery laugh, and it makes him snap his head up to face the older. John's pacing, kind of swinging his arms. He stops and runs his hands through his hair desperately as he speaks.

"Jesus Christ. Mike cares about you _so goddamned much_, and you can't even fucking see it. You just, you keep doing these idiot things to yourself, and it's _killing_ him, and you don't even notice because you're too wrapped up in your own bullshit. God, do you even understand how many people would _kill_ to be in your position right now? To have him care half as much for them as he does for you?" John asks, sounding almost distraught, wrecked. "You are _such a fucking moron_."

Alex just looks up at John, wide eyed and shocked. He wonders briefly if Mike had lied to him about the two of them having a thing in the past. But it's not a look of heartbreak John wears. It's something else, something familiar. He thinks, _no, it can't be._ There's no way Alex is in love with Mike. Sure, he cares about and respect the older, but...but the look of unrequited love that John wears is identical to the one Alex sees on himself every night. He thinks it would explain a lot, but that doesn't make it any less confusing or troubling.

"I would just think real hard about what my next move is, Riley. Because I'm not going to let you hurt him anymore." Morrison says shakily, pointing a finger at Alex's face. Then he turns and grabs his things, going to change elsewhere.

Alex looks around from where he sits against the lockers as the door swings shut behind John. There's tiny blue pills scattered everywhere. They feel like they're mocking him.

_Is this really what I've been reduced to?_ he wonders.

Slowly, he crawls over and gathers the pills back up, placing them back in the bottle and screwing on the lid. He sits them on the bench and tries not to look at them as he dresses, but it's hard. Finally, he's ready to go, and he gathers up the pills. As he's about to leave, he stops by the trash can, glancing down at the bottle in his hand. He briefly thinks about throwing them away. Then his face flushes and he stuffs them guiltily back into his back.

_Just in case_, he thinks, heading out the door.

**XXXXX**

This time when Mike's phone starts ringing at an ungodly hour, he snatches it up on the first ring, his brain already going into panic mode. Once he sees that it's actually Alex calling, however, he settles a bit, debating even answering at all. He eventually sighs and throws it at his suitcase, figuring he'll just let it go to voicemail. If Alex really wants to talk to him (_or apologize, _Mike thinks almost angrily), the younger knows where his room is. This is a conversation they need to have in person, after all. Unfortunately, the phone doesn't just continue to ring. It apparently hit something in Mike's bag juuuust right and now, he can hear Alex's voice as if the boy is next to him.

"-why I called you. You don't care. Not about your idiot, pillhead, fuckup little...little _lackey_ or whatever. I can't be your protege. I'm not, I'm just, it's...you're _The Miz!_ You're awesome! And...and I'm Kevin Kiley, and I'm, I'm just _not_."

Mike rolls over and just stares at his phone. Listening to Alex makes him hurt, physically, somehow. His speech is slurred, his voice sounds different, but overall he just seems _exhausted_, and painstakingly depressed. Could this be what's been bothering him so much? Mike ponders the thought. He's still unsure, however, because Alex _is_ fucked up. He might not even have a clue what he's saying, much less be able to have a serious conversation about it. Alex's continued speech rips him from his thoughts.

"-a fucking _moron_, John was _so right!_ I-I just keep fucking up. It's like I can't stop or something! And you just keep wasting your time. Yknow what, I shouldn't have even called. I'm sorry."

At this, the champ is off the bed and rushing to the phone. He hits his knees by his bag, snatching it up just in time to hear Alex say, "Goodbye, Michael."

"Alex! Alex, no, wait, don't ha-"

But the line is dead. Mike slumps in defeat. All of a sudden, Alex's farewell dawns on him like a spring morning. Alex Riley rarely calls him by his full first name, and he _never_ says goodbye. His stomach hits his feet. He has to find Alex _now_. He leaps up and throws on the first pair of shoes he can find, rushing out the room. He dials Alex back as he makes his way to the younger's room. The younger doesn't answer and he moves faster, almost slamming into the door when he reaches it. Thankfully, the champ had made it a point to get a spare key card made when they'd first arrived at the hotel. Now, he opens his friends door expiditiously. Panic sets in when he realizes Alex isn't there, but the pill bottle is, lying on the bed. It's noticably emptier than before, and it makes Mike nauseous.

The Champ hits his knees. Tears flood his eyes and he pushes the heels of his hands against them, scrubbing furiously as he almost tries to force the wetness back in. He's so _goddamned worried._ He searches his head, claws his way through his brain grasping for any sliver of information as to where Alex could _possibly_ be. Finally, he pushes himself back up with a sigh and drags his feet all the way back out into the hallway. He's halfway to his room when he hears hurried footsteps and his name being called. He whips around to find John rushing up behind him, completely out of breath.

"Oh, thank God." Morrison pants, slumping over with his hands on his knees. "Riley is on the fucking roof. He's out of his damn mind, and he's locked himself up there!"

Mike's eyes snap open wide. He's running before he even has time to process what's happening. He opts for the stairs since they're only three floors from the top, and takes them damn near four at a time. He feels like he's in a dream, like the moment isn't even real. The edges have faded out of everything, and he keeps seeing things in flashes of black and white. He's not sure if John followed him or not.

He does slam into the door to the roof when he reaches it. It doesn't give immediately, but he doesn't feel the hits either so he rams it a few more good times before hearing the telltale scraping slam as the door bursts open. Mike's eyes find his friend immediately. Alex is standing, leaning against the raised edge of the roof, a bottle of whiskey in his hand. He's stretched out, looking over, down at the street below. Mike rushes him, darting over and grabbing him around the waist. He yanks the younger back and falls with him to the ground, the force causing Alex to drop the bottle over the edge. They hear it smash to ground below as they land, Alex practically in the older's lap. Mike slumps forward in sheer relief, almost molding himself to his friend's back, his head cradled on Alex's shoulder.

"Alex..." Mike whispers, his arms moving to wrap around the younger's upper arms and shoulders tightly.

Alex doesn't respond immediately, but Mike feels him trembling in his arms. Suddenly, it sounds like Riley coughs out a laugh. Mike realizes momentarily that he did.

"Are those my shoes?" he almost slurs.

Mike looks down at his feet in disbelief. Sure enough, Alex's shoes adorn his feet. Mike chokes out a shaky laugh as well, resting his forehead on Alex's shoulder. After a moment, he tilts his head back up to set his chin on the younger's shoulder instead.

"Yea, I guess they are." he responds softly.

"Where did you even get those?" Riley asks, leaning back into Mike's grasp.

"I...have no idea." the champ replies with a slight chuckle.

They're silent for a moment. Mike's not even thinking as he turns his head to nuzzle against Alex's neck subconsciously. He feels the younger still in his arms, and something inside him snaps. He hugs Alex tighter.

"Alex...you have _got_ to talk to me." he begins quietly, speaking right next to the younger's ear. Mike feels him shiver. "What's wrong? What's got you so messed up that you feel like you can't talk to me about it? That you...that makes you _hurt_ yourself like this?"

"You wouldn't get it even if I did explain it, Mike." Alex mumbles, lowering his head a bit.

Mike pushes himself up to sit on his knees and turns Alex around to face him. The younger complies, but still won't look up at Mike. The champ sighs and tilts Alex's head to force his friend to look him in the eye.

"I'm never going to be able to unless you try and explain things." Mike says, voice full of frustration. "You're worrying me, Alex. A lot. And you're not getting out of things that easily this time. Now. Talk."

Alex sighs heavily. He's still doing everything in his power to try and avoid Mike's gaze. The older's eyes narrow and he lets out a growl.

"Fuck!" he cries out.

The younger snaps to attention, eyes wide.

"What in the hell do I have to do to get through to you?" Mike asks almost angrily, rubbing the heels of his hands against his eyes. He can feel the tears trying to start again, and now is _not_ the time. "I'm doing everything I can here, Alex. I'm bending over backwards to try and tell you I give a shit. But I can't help you with a damn thing unless you tell me what the _fuck_ has you feeling like this in the first place!"

He hears Alex sniff and looks up to face his friend. Watery eyes meet watery eyes for a few breaths.

"I'm not worth all this effort, Mike." Alex finally says, and it's so quiet, Mike almost doesn't catch it. He's silent for another beat, looking back down at the ground between them, but right when the champ opens his mouth to deny the younger's claims, Alex speaks up again. "No, Mike, I'm not! Look at me. I work my ass off, I win matches, I show them exactly what I'm made of, and they still won't even give me a full contract! I'm a complete dick to people who _so_ don't deserve it! I'm a screw up, and I can't _stop_! I mean, half the time I can't even blame them for not giving me a push, because no matter what I do, I'm still just sub-par. John's right, I'm so _fucking stupid_! I mean, I didn't even realize I'm in love with you."

**XXXXX**

The second it leaves his mouth, Alex's head snaps back up and his eyes pop open wide. He locks gazes with Mike, whose eyes are equally large. Neither says anything for a moment. Alex can't believe he's _that_ fucking stupid. Even though his vision and his thoughts are swimming due to the pills and the alcohol, he should know better than to just blurt out something like that. Now Mike's _definitely_ going to hate him. He hadn't even wanted to jump off the roof; he'd just been looking for a place to go clear his head and not be disturbed. Now, he wishes he'd done it when he had the chance. He looks away from the older as Mike opens his mouth to speak.

"You really are stupid sometimes, Alex." he hears. There's a slight smrik in the older's voice.

"I know." he replies simply, quietly.

Out of nowhere, Alex feels fingers pressing softly under his chin, and his head is tilted up. Before he even has a chance to figure out what's going on, there's a warm mouth pressed tenderly against his own. It's only a beat before Alex is fully aware of the situation and kissing back. Mike's lips move against his own, opening ever so slightly. Alex feels a hand come to rest against his cheek, Mike's other hand gripping his upper arm. Then Mike's tongue brushes his for the first time and he feels suddenly weak, leaning forward into the older. His arms come up to wrap around the champ to pull him close, closer, until they're pressed tight.

It takes them a few extra brushes of their lips to draw back, and when they finally do, neither goes very far. Mike's hand has moved from his arm to the back of his neck as they remain close enough to nearly breathe each other's air. The champ's hand is still on the side of his face, and Alex tilts his hand into it, closing his eyes. They stay like that, a soft smile on Mike's face, until the older's voice rips Alex from his thoughts.

"You're not worthless, Alex." Mike says, sure of himself. "What could _possibly_ make you think you're worthless? You want me to look at you? I _do_ look at you, Alex! Can't you see? I hand picked you out of everyone from FCW. When Vince wanted to get rid of all the rookies but Kaval at the end of the season, I fought for you. I told him that I would take you under my wing, and I would be solely responsible for you. I made sure you didn't get messed with in the locker room. I've begged Vince a million times to give you more solo matches. Hell, I put my fucking _career_ on the line for you and you still don't think I give a shit about you? Look at _me_, Alex."

Mike trails off, and Alex looks up at his friend. The older is looking at the ground this time, appearing drastically unconfident for the first time. When he finally does grab Alex's gaze again, there's something not quite new in his eyes.

"I love you, too." the champ finally whispers.

The phrase hits Alex like a slap in the face, and he feels better than he has in weeks. He's on Mike in an instant, sealing their lips together once more. He kisses the older with such vigor that it nearly knocks Mike over, and before either of them know it, Mike is on his back on the concrete roof, his arms wrapped around Alex's back as the younger hovers over him. They kiss with fervor, fire coursing through their veins. Eventually, Mike pulls back to speak again, holding Alex at a slight distance.

"Alex, Alex. Alex, I want to help you. I want to show you how not worthless you really are. But you have to let me." he explains tenderly.

And anyone else, Alex is pretty sure he would have questioned. This is Mike, though. This is his best friend. This is the person he's figured out he loves more than anyone else. So Alex finds himself nodding, a slight smile gracing his lips for the first time in a long time.

"I will, Mike. I...I trust you." Alex says softly, pressing a quick kiss to Mike's lips. He feels like he needs the older to even breathe. "Please don't hurt me."

"I won't. I won't, I promise. As long as you promise no more pills."

The phrase is said with a deadly seriousness to it, and for the first time, Alex sees it for what it really is: Mike showing concern for someone he genuinely cares about. He promises, nodding again, and for once, as he dips down to kiss Mike again, he thinks that maybe he's _not_ fully worthless. Maybe he'll be alright after all.


End file.
